


Lay Me Down, The Lie Will Unfurl

by Alcoholic_kangaroo



Series: Small Town Boy, Going Everywhere [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_kangaroo
Summary: Jonathan is having trouble dealing with "the incident," and Will is going through heartbreak.Warning: Set between season 1 and 2 so this is very underage smut. Don't like, don't read.





	Lay Me Down, The Lie Will Unfurl

The first time Will came home with bruises on his throat, Jonathan was ready to storm over to the school and deliver a heavy beating to some middleschoolers. Except Will wouldn't tell him who did it to him. He just slipped a turtleneck over his head (something he could pull off since it was still February) and pleaded at Jonathan to swear that he wouldn't say anything to their mother. Which, of course, Jonathan refused to do. Their mother would want to know if anybody was hurting one of her sons. After what happened last fall she had turned into a mother bear, ready to challenge anybody who so much as looked at her baby boy with a scornful gaze.

If she found out Jonathan knew Will had been being bullied and done nothing about it his ass would be out on the street. Besides, Jonathan loves Will, he'll do anything to protect him.

“He wasn't hurting me,” Will had confessed, finally, his eyes turned away from Jonathan's face. He bit at his lip, as if he didn't want to speak the next few words. “They weren't made by a hand.”

It wasn't the last time the bruises would be there. And sometimes bruises would be in other places as well. Running into his brother on the way back from the shower one morning, he noticed a distinct set of teeth marks around Will's left nipple. The image of Mike Wheeler's mouth suckling at Will's chest as if he were a woman flooded him with indescribable emotions. Part anger, part disgust, part envy, part arousal. He didn't say anything about the bite mark but Will knew he had seen it. He avoided his eyes for the next couple days.

How did two boys “helping each other out” go from the occasional hand jobs to make out sessions? Were they dating? Did that mean Will was actually gay? Jonathan didn't find that idea surprising in the slightest. There had always been something a little off about his brother. Off in a way that was different than how Jonathan himself was off. Something just a little too timid and accommodating. When other kids had been running around the neighborhood, setting bags of dog shit on fire and shooting cats with BB guns, Will had been had been gardening with their mother and putting out bowls of milk for the local strays. He's always been such a sweet boy.

But Will never said anything about dating Mike. He never even went so far as to confess his attraction to boys to Jonathan, if such a thing did exist. Jonathan tried to ignore the marks on Will's body. Something that proved more difficult than expected as the bruises were surprisingly enticing. They looked good against the smallness of his neck. They were flattering like a well cut jacket or a nice haircut. He couldn't stop to think about how sweet Will's throat would taste beneath his own tongue, his own teeth. He wondered if Will made noises when Mike Wheeler was latched onto him.

Life goes on. Things stabilize, to a degree. Will's nightmares continue.

It's been five months since the incident went down. Jonathan can't force himself to say the words. He can't even think of the words. He can't silently articulate “my little brother gave me head.” So in his head he just refers to it as “the incident.”

It would be a lie to say he hasn't masturbated to the memory. He tried not to, at first. He'd close his eyes and imagine it was Nancy Wheeler between his legs, or some other girl from school, or maybe Jo from _The Facts of Life_. But eventually it'd always turn into Will. Will, with his big, trusting eyes, and his small mouth that barely fit around his cock. The way he'd look up at him, nothing but trust and adoration in his eyes. The way he'd swallowed it all down like an obedient boy.

Jonathan doesn't think he's gay. He's not attracted to guys. He's not attracted to boys, either. He likes women.

But not enough to masturbate to, evidently.

He recognizes something about himself is wrong. Maybe he is as damaged as his brother. He wants to do it again. He wants to do more. He wants to reciprocate. To put his mouth on his brother and give him pleasure in return. He hasn't seen that part of Will since he was much smaller. He tries to remember the exact time. Probably some bath he walked in on him taking when he was five or six. There hadn't been any of these complicated, disturbing feelings then.

He's thirteen now. How big could he be by now, down there? Is he growing hair yet? Would he fit easily in Jonathan's mouth or would he gag on it?

He could go to jail if he carried out on his thoughts. He knows that. Jonathan is a deviant and he hates himself for that. But this isn't an Orwell novel. He can't go to jail for his thoughts. Especially if he keeps them to himself.

Nancy invites him out with her and Steve after prom this year. Jonathan declines. Nancy looks too much like her little brother and it puts weird images in Jonathan's head. Before, the image of them together had made him uneasy because of his own uncontrollable jealousy. Something he knew he had no right to but, well, he's a teenager, he's allowed some raging emotions, right? But the jealousy is different now. When he sees them necking, the image flashes between the true sight and images of Will and Mike together. And then sometimes it's caught in between and he sees Nancy pressing herself against his little brother's body and, well, that's confusing as shit but ungodly attractive. He jerks off to the idea of Nancy giving his brother head for a few nights until he feels so filthy he starts showering twice a day.

Jonathan realizes he may be going insane. Will doesn't make it any better. He comes into his room at night when he's had nightmares and crawls in between the sheets. He's hot and damp with night sweat and smells like early adolescent boy.

He presses himself close to Jonathan, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, and Jonathan rests his chin on Will's head when he wraps him up in his arms. Sometimes, when he wakes up a couple hours later, they've shifted positions and he finds himself spooning Will instead. He's so small, smaller than Nancy had been, and he fits so easily in his embrace. Sometimes, he wakes up with his dick hard against Will's ass.

When he wakes up to himself grinding against Will's bottom he starts locking his bedroom door at night. For several nights afterwards he wakes up to quiet knocking on the fake wood. Quiet, but persistent knocking, the gentlest taps of small knuckles.

“Jonathan? Are you awake? I, I had a nightmare. Please let me in. Jonathan?”

He covers his ears and waits for Will to leave. His brother has always been quiet and subdued. He doesn't bang on the door non-stop or scream through the barrier. But the first couple nights Jonathan hears him out there, sniffling and breathing It sounds like Will is probably sitting on the floor in the hallway, leaning against Jonathan's door. He ends up falling asleep with his hands still covering his head. Will is always gone in the morning.

After awhile, Will stops coming to him at night. After a couple weeks, Jonathan starts to miss him. His bed feels large and cold and lonely as February turns into March. The week of Will's birthday, Jonathan starts leaving his door open once more, but Will never comes back to him.

Sometimes, Jonathan catches him coming out of their mother's room in the morning. His hair rumpled, still wearing his socks to ward off the nightly trek across cold tiles. He never used to sleep in his socks. He used to complain about sleeping with anything on his feet, claimed they made him feel like he was trapped. Like he couldn't breath. Which Jonathan never got and had resulted in him teasing Will that he breathed through his mouth not his feet. He'd called him Toe Breath for awhile, a stupid nickname from a ten-year-old Jonathan. Their mother had put a stop to it, scolding him for being mean to his little brother because, well, he's his big brother and he's supposed to watch after him not bully him.

He feels guilty that Will no longer comes to him after his nightmares. He feels guilty for not being able to just hold him and comfort him like a normal big brother. He feels guilty for not taking care of Will like he's supposed to. Their mother is working so much overtime to take care of them and he's neglecting his brother.

The guilt is compounded when he finds Will alone in his bedroom, his face wet as he draws on his bed. His hair is still damp from the snow and his socked feet look dirty from the dusty floor.

“Dinner's ready,” he starts, before he notices the tears. He stutters. “I, uh, I made Shake 'n Bake. Well, Shook and Cook, it's a store brand.”

Will wipes at his face with his arm, trying to be discrete about it. Like maybe he was just itching his nose or something. He tilts his head away from Jonathan's gaze.

“I'll be right there,” he says, his voice shakes and he sounds muffled, as if his nose was stuffy. “Just wanna finish coloring this part of the picture.”

Jonathan sucks at his teeth then licks his lips. He knows Will just wants him to leave so he can clean himself up and try to make himself presentable for dinner. But Will is crying and what kind of big brother just pretends not to notice when he sees his sibling in pain? He glances towards the picture and catches another portrait of Mike Wheeler. Except, where the drawings Will normally does of Mike show him almost glowing with angelic purity, in this picture Mike is turned away from the viewer, a sea of red and orange and black darkening his profile. It looks like he's in Hell but when Jonathan steps closer he sees its just a sunset. Still.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Will tilts his eyes up to look at Jonathan, then looks back down at his notebook. He shakes his head and goes back to scribbling the corner of the picture with his black crayon. He's still in the same area. That part of the page is pitch black, about as black as anything can possibly be. But still, he continues to press the crayon onto the paper.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Jonathan asks. He sits down on the edge of Will's bed. It's smaller and less firm than his own. It sags to the side and the notebook slides down, poking at Jonathan's backside. Will makes an annoyed sound and grabs it back.

“I'm fine,” Will says tersely.

“Will...”

“I'm fine,” he repeats, more vehemently. He's pressing the crayon harder now, digging even deeper into the paper. Jonathan watches the crayon, frozen. He doesn't want to force Will to do anything he doesn't want to but he doesn't want to leave either. He's at a standstill.

The paper rips. Just a small part of the corner, where it has thinned from the repeated rubbing of the crayon. Will makes an angry huffing sound and tightens his hand around the crayon into a fist. It snaps. The sudden scream from his normally quiet little brother startles Jonathan. He jumps in surprise and watches with wide eyes as Will rips out the page in his notebook and tears it into a hundred pieces.

They flutter all around him as he throws them. If it had been a larger, heavier object, they might have hit the wall. Instead they scatter around the floor and blanket. The bridge of Mike's nose lands on Jonathan's knee.

Will's done with that movement. He deflates, melting into a pile of hand-me-downs and flushed skin in the middle of the bed. Jonathan watches him sob into his hands, still frozen. This is so unlike Will he's unsure how to act. But once it becomes apparent that whatever violent streak had possessed him is over he moves up to put his arm around Will's shoulder.

He doesn't have to ask him again. Will turns and burrows into his chest, and weeps.

“Mike doesn't like me,” he says hoarsely, his voice still uncommonly loud for Will. Like he's incapable of speaking quietly at this moment.

Jonathan hasn't held Will like this for several months now and God, it feels so good to have him in his arms again. To feel him warm and breathing and alive. To feel the small bones of his vertebrae beneath his shirt.. He tightens his grip on him and tries not to concentrate on how warm he feels. He'll be a good brother.

“Of course Mike likes you,” he murmurs into his ear. He holds Will's head close to his own, his chin pressing against his temple. “You have been friends since Kindergarten.”

“Not like I like him,” Will wavers.

Is this Will's first heartbreak? Was Mike Will's first crush? It's so late for such a thing but understandable, given the circumstances. How long has Will known he's liked boys? Is that something it takes them longer to understand? Jonathan feels like that would be confusing, to be a young boy and have weird feelings for other young boys, and not recognizing that such a thing is not only okay but not that abnormal.

Why couldn't he be like any other boy though? Why couldn't he have had his first crush at five, six, seven? Ages where heartbreak are quickly forgotten. Why couldn't it have been on some random little boy in his first grade class? Not his best friend.

He kisses Will's head and rocks him and lets him cry it out until he's too tired to cry any longer. Jonathan doesn't mind the wet collar of his shirt or the snot on his throat. He holds Will until Will quiets and his breath goes even and relaxed. He listens to his breathing, still wet sounding but not so filled with anguish. He think he may have fallen asleep in his arms but every so often he sniffles and after awhile Will stars rubbing his thumb against Jonathan's knee, as if he was sketching invisible images onto the denim.

He once threatened to beat the kid who left those bruises on Will's neck. Now he wants to do that more than ever. But he cant' fault Mike for not being gay. Or not wanting Will, even if he is. You can't make somebody love or be attracted to another person.

“You two were...dating?” he asks slowly.

“No,” Will replies. “I mean, I was hoping, I guess, but we never said it.”

“Experimenting?”

“Yeah, I guess it was just that.”

“You could have told me you were gay, you know that, right?” Jonathan asks him. He continues holding him close, Will's face still hidden. It's easier like this, if they don't have to look at each other. “I'd never judge you because of who you love.”

“I figured you knew,” Will says. “I mean, after what happened between us.”

Jonathan winces. This is very like that time, really. Alone in a bedroom, Will in his lap. Different bedroom, different reason he's holding him, but he's experiencing a sense of deja vu.

“Boys do things sometimes,” Jonathan tells him. He knows this because he read into it a lot after the incident. Books on puberty and sexuality. “Boys who like girls, even. Are you sure you're not just confused about your feelings for Mike?”

“He's not the only boy,” Will replies despondently.

There's that sense of jealousy once more, settling into Jonathan's stomach. Other boys. Will has experimented with other boys. Just how many dicks has this boy had in his mouth? No, don't think that. Don't think of how good it felt or how pretty Will would look with his tender looking lips around him. Or how hot he probably is right now.

“You've um,” Jonathan coughs awkwardly, “You've been using protection, right?”

“With Mike?”

“And the others?”

“The others?” Will pulls back and looks at him confused, brow furrowed. Then his mouth opens in surprise. “Oh, I don't mean he's not the only boy I've done stuff with. I mean, I mean I've had crushes on other boys. But I mean, I wouldn't, I couldn't...they'd beat me up.”

Jonathan would love to tell him that's not true. He'd love to tell him that plenty of boys would be attracted to Will and like him as he is. He'd love to tell him that the town is full of boys just like him. But that's a lie. They would beat him up, if they knew what Will really thought.

“Dinner's probably getting cold,” he says instead.

Will laughs. It's loud and sudden and Jonathan finds himself chuckling as well. He's never been best at this sort of thing. A girl in middle school once called him an emotional retard after he walked in on her crying in the art room and asked if she wanted a teacher.

“I know it sucks right now,” he says. “And it'll probably suck for awhile. But one day you'll go off to college and there will be other guys like you and you won't have to hide it anymore. I know you have a thing for Mike and I don't think it's that weird to have a crush on him, he's your best friend. But he's not the only fish in the sea.”

“No,” Will sighs, accepting Jonathan's words. “He's not the only one. But he's the cutest one. And he has an awesome dick.”

“Will!” Jonathan scolds. He feels vaguely scandalized. He knew what they did together, and he's had first hand experience with Will's expertise with a man's penis, but come on.

“Mike says that's how he knows I'm really gay,” Will says, ignoring Jonathan's admonishment. “He likes when I gave him head but he never did it back. And I was okay with that, you know? I'm sure it'd be great to get one in return some day but I really like doing it. I like how they look. How they feel. How they taste and smell. I like feeling in control of somebody else's pleasure. Is that wrong of me?”

Wrong? Abnormal, maybe. Deviant. Uncommon. Jonathan can't imagine wanting to have another man's cock in his mouth. There's nothing appealing about them; he'd much rather fondle a pair of breasts. But is it wrong to be attracted to male genital? He doesn't think so. Not wrong like how it's wrong to enjoy the sight of your underage brother's lips around your erection.

“No,” he says simply. “It's not wrong.” He strokes Will's hair silently for a few seconds before adding, “But that's still a dick move for him not to reciprocate.”

“But I like dicks.”

“Idiot,” Jonathan scoffs. “There will be better dicks out there for you. Dicks that will change your life.”

“Okay, Jonathan,” Will says, “This is getting weird now. Let's stop talking about dicks.”

 

* * *

 

Will starts coming back into his bedroom at night. Once or twice he even falls asleep on Jonathan's bed after they sit up late into the night talking or listening to music, quietly so as not to disturb their mother. One night he drifts off earlier than usual, in the middle of studying for a test the next day in school. Jonathan gathers scattered books and notecards and piles them up on his dresser for morning. Then he carefully maneuvers Will beneath the blankets, slowly and gently enough that the boy, while stirring, does not awaken.

It feels good to have his brother relying on him once more. He's talking to him now, telling him things he never did before. Secret things. His fears. His attractions. His worries. Things that a boy might tell a friend before he'd tell a brother.

Things he used to tell Mike, maybe?

For a couple weeks he stays away from Mike and the rest of the boys but it doesn't last. By early summer they're back to their old ways, a pile of misfits as closely locked together as links on a chain. But sometimes, when Jonathan goes to collect his brother from the musty smelling basement, he sees how Will still looks at Mike with adoration and pain in his eyes.

Jonathan wants to hate Mike. He wants to hurt him. But Mike is Mike. He's been friends with Will for ages and he isn't weird around him now. He still smiles at Will and touches his arm when he passes by on the way out the door and several times has had to comfort Will when he has one of his episodes or flashbacks. Mike isn't some asshole stringing on a gay boy's emotions for his own amusement, and that makes it harder on Jonathan. He wishes he could just hate Mike.

One afternoon in mid-July, Jonathan goes to pick Will up at the library. He likes going there on Sundays when the other boys are in church because the basement of the church, where they hold a rummage sale of old discarded books, is always cool and empty. They don't have air conditioning in their own house. Will has always been sensitive to the heat. It's his smallness, he's more susceptible to heatstroke. The Wheeler house has air conditioning.

Will is not waiting outside like usual but it is nearly ninety already at noon and there aren't any trees outside the library to even huddle under for shade. Jonathan parks the car in the pebble filled driveway and walks into the library.

He gets why Will likes the library. There's something soothing about the expanse of polished wood floor and stillness of only books and a ticking clock. But for Jonathan, it can feel claustrophobic. He, like Will, is naturally quiet, but he doesn't like quietness thrust upon him. When he's told he must be quiet he feels like screaming. The quiet murmuring of a couple old women at one of the tables near the windows somehow makes it more oppressive.

Will's still in the basement. But, for once, the basement is not devoid of people. He finds him at a table with another boy, probably a year or two older than his brother, and they're looking through a large reference book together. Will's giggling and the other boy is smiling and God, why does he look like Mike? He's not Mike, he's not as pale and he's not as skinny, but he's got that nose and those slug-like lips and mass of curly black hair. He could be Mike's cousin.

And in fact, he is Mike's cousin. Visting for a couple weeks with his parents.

Will introduces him as Vincent. This new kid, this not-Mike kid, smirks at Will in a condescending way when his brother apologizes for not noticing the time.

“Who's this? Your boyfriend?” Vincent asks, his voice oozing sarcasm.

Will flushes and it's adorable and awkward at the same time.

“Just my brother,” he dismisses. “Jonathan, Vincent's Jewish so he doesn't have to go to church with Mike's family. I ran into him upstairs and he offered to let me catch a ride with his father when he comes pick him up. I'm sorry, I forgot to call you.”

Jonathan barely even hears the rest of the sentence. He's still fixated on the first line. “Just my brother.” As if he was “Just my mail guy” or “Just my dentist.” Jonathan has changed Will's diapers and kissed his boo boos and helped him with his homework and cooked him dinner and made him mix tapes and taken him shopping for cooler clothing and held him every night as he slept for the last two weeks straight, despite the sweltering night heat.

“Don't worry about it,” he gets out. “What time do you want me to pick you up later?”

“Oh, um,” Will licks his lips and looks towards Vincent.

“He's sleeping over,” Vincent dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “We're having a bonfire.”

“A bonfire?” Jonathan asks, arching an eyebrow. There is no way the Wheelers would allow a bonfire in their backyard so where, exactly, was this fire to be? And where there's a bonfire there's usually beer. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“Are you his mom?” Vincent asks.

“Please?” Will begs, his eyes big and puppyish. He looks at Jonathan, then back at Vincent, then back at Jonathan. Jonathan recognizes the way he stares at Vincent. It's both the way he stares at Mike and somehow different. There's that sense of adoration there but also something else. Forced nonchalance, maybe? Mike has known Will long enough that Will has always felt comfortable around him, no need to put up a front. He's trying to hide his clingyness from this new Wheeler.

“I'll let mom know,” he says, finally. “But we were supposed to go fishing tomorrow.”

“We can fish any day,” Will says.

They can, but they don't. Will is usually too busy with his friends.

Jonathan doesn't want to leave Will alone with this boy in this basement. It's a different Wheeler, a different basement, but the same scenario nonetheless. Jonathan knows the setup to another heartbreak when he sees one. And he doesn't know this boy. This boy who looks like Mike but without the softness in his eyes. But Will is no longer a baby. Jonathan can't tell him what to do just because he's afraid he'll hurt himself. It's not like telling him to stay away from the iron or leaving the electric sockets alone.

He'll have to clean up this situation, eventually. He knows that. But he can't stop it. Will has to do what he has to do. It's unfair for him to miss out on these life lessons just because Vincent is a boy and not a girl.

“Call me when you're ready to be picked up,” he says finally.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Jonathan doesn't have to do anything. It's Mike who takes care of it.

It's only a week later when Jonathan gets the call to come pick up Will. And even that, Mike takes care of. His voice is quiet and concerned over the phone and Jonathan wants to know why Mike is calling instead of Will.

Will's a mess. Literally and figuratively. He's crying, his face in his knees, but when he looks up at Jonathan he has a busted lips and a bruise under one eye.

“I'm sorry,” Mike mumbles.

Jonathan takes it wrong. He sees blood on Will's lip and bloody scrapes on Mike's knuckles and slams the boy against the wall, ready to beat the shit out of him. Mike doesn't fight back, his head hangs in resignation.

Dustin screams at him to let go and both him and Lucas are tugging at his arms.

“He didn't do it!” Dustin cries out.

Jonathan huffs through his nose, still ready to beat the living snot out of the punk who did this to his brother. But he doesn't need to do this in front of a group of thirteen year olds. Not to mention this might lead to some sort of legal action on the side of Mike's parents.

He leads Will up the stairs with an arm around Will's shoulder. He heads towards the kitchen, which is where you can usually find Mrs. Wheeler, ready to lay into her about the cruelty of her son. About the failure of her parenting practices. Maybe with a couple threats of legal action of his own.

Vincent sits at the kitchen table, a pack of frozen peas over one eye. If Will is a mess then Vincent is a mess that has been hit by a truck. He makes a face when he sees Will, one of disgust, but it pulls at his broken lip and he inhales sharply.

Jonathan is happy to comment that it looks like the boy's nose has been broken.

 

* * *

 

“I tried to kiss him,” Will explains. He's sucking on a Popsicle from the freezer. It's a red one. Jonathan gave it to him to help numb the pain in his lip. “I know it was stupid, but I thought, I thought he liked me. He put his arm around me.”

“You have to be more careful,” Jonathan tells him. “Boys like you get killed for that sort of thing. I want you to be safe.”

“Whatever,” Will says, shrugging gloomily. “I give up. I'm going to be an old maid.”

“Don't be so melodramatic,” Jonathan scolds. “Just wait until college. Colleges have groups. Like, clubs just full of gays. You'll have your pick of the litter then.”

“No I won't,” Will mumbles around the ice. He slides it out from between his lips. It's half gone already. “It'll be even worse because then there will be a lot of attractive guys and I can't compete with that.”

He sticks the Popsicle between his lips and sucks on it again. The slide of melting ice against the plumpness of Will's lips sets Jonathan's heart beating faster. He tries to ignore.

“Of course you can,” he says. And he's not just saying the words Will wants to hear. Of course Will could have any guy he wants. Well, any gay one. Hell, he could probably have any straight one if they watched how he was sucking on that ice.

“I'm not attractive. I'm puny and weak.”

“You're cute as a button,” Jonathan replies, reaching over to press the tip of his nose. “Just you wait, someday you'll have a whole line of them at your door wanting to date you.”

Will wrinkles his nose and brushes away Jonathan's hand. He bites off the last of the Popsicle and crunches it between his teeth. It's all but liquid and melts almost instantly. Jonathan watches the moment of his throat as he swallows.

“Cute as a button? What am I, five?”

“You'll always be my baby brother,” Jonathan tells him. “Seriously though, you're cute. You won't have any trouble finding a boyfriend. You're cute and kind and smart and talented, any guy will be lucky to have you.”

“Not Mike,” Will grumbles miserably. He sets aside his empty Popsicle stick. Jonathan's glad he's finished. He's starting to get hard from watching him. “Not Vincent.”

“Well, you can try dating outside that family,” Jonathan points out. He moves in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable spot where his half-hard cock isn't digging into his jeans.

“But they're so hot,” Will groans. He drops his head into his arms and whines pathetically. “I'm going to die alone.”

“You'll always have me.”

“Great, maybe I'll take my brother to my prom instead of my mother.”

“Proms are overrated anyway,” Jonathan tells him. Trying to hide his arousal, he scoots the chair closer to him and rubs at his back, up by his shoulder. He doesn't want to get too close. “The only point of going to them is to get laid afterwards.”

“Yeah, probably should take you instead of mom then.”

Jonathan hand stills. He doesn't like to be reminded of the incident. He wants to step back from him now, but it'd come too quickly after the comment and just make sure things were awkward between them once more.

Will lifts his head and looks at Jonathan. The bruise under his eye is spreading and growing darker. His lip looks okay though, maybe just because they're so red from the Popsicle

“Do you think, I mean...should we talk about that time?”

Jonathan just shakes his head, trying to keep his expression blank. Does he want to talk about that? He's scared shirtless at the very idea of doing so.

“I mean, you don't like guys, right?”

He shakes his head again.

“But you let me...”

“It was stupid,” Jonathan cuts in. “We shouldn't have done that.”

“But I liked it.”

“I know but- We shouldn't talk about it.”

“I thought you hated me for awhile,” Will confesses, turning to look back at the table. He draws his shoulders up tight against himself. It's a protective gesture but it just makes him look smaller and more vulnerable. “You locked me out of your room.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, “I'm sorry. I wasn't angry at you, I just needed a little time alone.”

Will nods but he's still looking away from his brother.

“I, I liked it. A lot.” Will takes a deep breath. “I kept thinking about it afterwards. I wanted to do it again but I didn't know how to ask you.”

“Don't,” Jonathan says through gritted teeth. “Don't ask me.”

What if he did ask him? Would Jonathan had been able to say no? Could he still say no? With his brother's gentle eyes looking at him as he spoke his request? With his blood already rushing down to his crotch? He let Will hang out with that boy and look where he ended up? He has to put his foot down somewhere, but he also adores his brother much too deeply.

“I miss Mike,” he confesses, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I miss sex. It's not just about that. Mike or, you know, just feeling good. It's about feeling connected to another person.” He wipes roughly at his eyes. “I feel, I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton now. Like everything is muffled and I'm isolated from the world.”

Isolated from the world? If anybody knew that feeling it would be Will. How many others had literally traveled to a different world? What's a little incest compared to that? There's nothing supernatural about it. Nothing that alien. Royalty used to do it on purpose, to keep the bloodlines pure. Admittedly, that had been heterosexual couplings, but at least there was no fear of getting Will pregnant.

He wraps Will into his arms and kisses the top of his head. Then he kisses the side, near his temple. Then the space below his ear. Will latches onto him, his arms tightening around his neck, and Jonathan finally gives in and tastes that skin beneath his jaw that he's wanted to taste since the first time he saw Mike Wheeler's mark on him. Will swallows and he feels the movement through his throat.

“You deserve better,” he says, speaking close to his ear. “You deserve the world. You deserve the best. You deserve a boyfriend you can love. You deserve a better brother.”

“I have the best brother in the world,” Will disagrees with him. “I wouldn't want another one. I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you too.”

It's not a romantic love. But it's deeper than most sibling love. Something more profound, enwovenednd strengthened by shared experiences, secrets. Jonathan carries Will to his bed and lays him down. He looks like a wounded bird laying there, breathing heavily, the bones of his ribs showing prominently once Jonathan pulls his shirt off over his head.

Will's first experience at receiving oral sex is beautiful. He's noisy in bed, something that Jonathan always expected, and he thrusts up futilely trying to find friction in Jonathan's mouth. Jonathan holds him down by his scrawny hips, keeping him in place as he takes his own time getting used to the situation. He's never had a dick in his mouth and Will, while not huge, is big enough to gag him if he isn't careful. He doesn't grab Jonathan by the head or tug at his hair. Instead, he covers his face with his arms, as if embarrassed by the situation. Jonathan glances up at one point and can tell Will is staring at the ceiling. His stomach rises and falls rapidly with shallow breaths.

He doesn't let Will come in his mouth though. He doesn't let him come at all. Not yet.

“Do you know how two guys have sex?” Jonathan asks as he sits up. He wipes at his mouth. “I mean, not just blowjobs, but intercourse?”

Will shakes his head tiredly.

“Not really,” he says, “I mean, I know it's up the butt, but I don't know how it works.”

“Well, let's try to figure it out.”

They use a bottle of lotion on Jonathan's bed stand. It's the same bottle he uses to jerk off with. The same lotion he's coating his dick in when needing something more liquid to imagine the feeling of Will's mouth around his cock once more.

He puts some on his fingers and presses one carefully into Will. He's tight around the digit but he doesn't complain about it hurting. Not until he tries to work the second one in.

“Stings,” he confesses, when Jonathan asks him about the pained sound he released. “Are you sure this is possible?”

He wishes he wasn't sure, but he's spent too many hours reading up on this exact subject after the incident. Will is large enough to take a man's dick without pain, if he could relax. But that's easier said than done.

“Relax,” he tells him instead of answering his question. “I'm going to make you feel good.”

He will, to. This isn't about Jonathan. Or at least, it's not only about Jonathan. He's going to take his brother's virginity. He wants that connection. He wants that right. He doesn't want some asshole who dumps Will a week later to have this privilege. He wants Will to look back at this experience twenty years from now, thirty years, and remember it fondly. He wants Will to know his brother did, and always has, loved him.

It takes longer than he'd thought to spread him wide enough to slide in. But he's careful and slow enough that Will doesn't complain about the pain or ask him to stop. The lotion keeps drying and he reapplies it several times before finally smearing a generous portion onto his own cock.

He takes Will face to face. He wants to look at him as he does it so he can watch out for any signs of pain. His brother is sweating and his breathing is erratic but he isn't crying or trying to get away. The boy grabs onto Jonathan's forearms when he's halfway in, squeezing him hard, and Jonathan halts. He gives Will time to adjust. The boy's legs are up over his own shoulders and he strokes one with his right hand, feeling the soft fuzz on his calves, reminding him this is a boy, not a meticulously groomed girl. He's inside a boy. He's inside his brother.

He feels himself throb at the thought of it. This shouldn't be as much of a turn on as it is.

When Will's grip loosens, he presses forward, presses down so that Will's knees press against his own chest, and begins to slowly move inside of him. He doesn't want to pull too far back, he's afraid he'll pop out and have to start the process all over again, so his thrusts are shallow. He feels more like he's continuously trying to drive his cock deeper up into his brother's intestines than actually moving in and out of him, but Will's clenching around him in a way that increases his awareness of the actual movement.

“How's it feel?” Jonathan asks after a couple minutes. He's worried that Will's not enjoying it. Even if he's not in pain, it might still not feel great. Jonathan doesn't think he'd be that willing to have a dick shoved up his own ass.

“Really good,” Will responds, dazedly. His voice sounds slurred, like he's been drinking. Drunk on pleasure? “Can you, can you go faster?”

Can he? This slow pace has been killing him. His thighs are trembling from the constant resistance his mind is applying to his body. He pulls himself up onto his knees and pulls Will's body closer, spreading his legs farther apart in the process. Again, Will covers his eyes with one of his arms, but he makes no attempt to hold back his moans.

His dick, leaking and still hard, lies between them. Jonathan grabs at it, fisting it, and starts pumping it along with his own thrusts. This new position hits something deeper inside of his brother, something he must like because he screams and grabs at Jonathan's hips as he pushes his own hips up for more. But the hands on his hips are a hindrance, he can't fuck his brother like he wants to with them in the way. He grabs at Will's hands and pins them up beside his head. Except now he can't touch Will's dick and Will is crying with pleasure, he really needs somebody to touch him. Jonathan moves the hands up above Will's head, pinning them both with just his right hand, and slips his left hand back down between him.

Will cries through his orgasm. It's possibly the most beautiful thing Jonathan has ever seen. So beautiful it nearly distracts himself from his own release. He doesn't have time to even think about whether or not he should come inside of his brother. He doesn't think about it until it's happening and by then he's too far gone to care. He presses in deeper, his hips flush against Will's bottom, and releases deep inside him. Jonathan's never felt better in his life.

He can't force himself to even regret it, afterwards. He collapses next to Will's panting body, their shoulders touching, and both stare at the ceiling for a long time afterwards.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So which direction should this go from here? I have a few ideas and chapter 4 is actually almost finished (I've been writing it on work breaks in a notebook bit by bit while the rest I've written at home on my laptop.) Mike/Will? Jonathan/Will? Billy/Will? Nancy/Will? Hopper/Will? Uh..Joyce/Will? Okay, this is getting outta hand, you don't need to sleep with everyone you know kid.


End file.
